August 5, a Saturday: there's not a cloud in the sky.
If you pay attention, I'll say goodbye from the top of a building.
August 3, a Thursday: there's a scar on my heart,
the sixth scar, shredding it to pieces, breaking everything apart, everything.

When we met I realized my foolishness.
I could not believe in people, and I hurt them.
Why do I still love you without learning from my mistakes?
This way, it's seems I'll never be able to forget what it is to love, but

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